


Do You Want to Build a Snow Cat?

by whiplashcrash



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: I have plans, M/M, be prepared for plot twists, yes it's a frozen AU but no it's not following the exact plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/pseuds/whiplashcrash
Summary: After years of longing to be free of his sham of a title, Alexsandr, Prince of Lothal, is finally free. With only the faintest distance between him and his freedom, suddenly it doesn't matter he and his family don't speak, or Alexsandr barely knows what the inside of his "home" looks like, or even that he’s adopted and passed over for the throne. All that matters is playing his part until he can forfeit his title to live as Alexsandr, not "your highness."Even when the King and Queen die, it didn't matter; Alexsandr was free, and could've fled the gorgeous winter-covered palace of Lothal to find love somewhere besides between the fluttering fans of empty-minded noblewomen in horrifying corsets and impossible streaks of color across their faces. He would've been free to forget his past and disappear beyond the kingdoms if not for one small detail.Alexsandr loved his brother.Despite the strained relationship Alexsandr had with their parents, and the falling out that preceded their deaths, Alexsandr couldn’t deny it. No matter how he resented them, the eldest prince was not capable of forsaking their son, his brother, Ezra. It never occurred to him the cold stemmed from more than the drafty palace walls.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Do You Want to Build a Snow Cat?

**Author's Note:**

> GaiyaMyles and JessKo have both been instrumental in encouraging me with this fic, both as a cheerleader, brainstorming buddy and as a beta. there are no words to express how grateful I am

Though he was a prince, even if it was in name only, Alexsandr was not used to living in a castle. It was difficult to make the adjustment. Bouncing from school to school, diplomatic suite to ship quarters, the room of his childhood, stripped bare after years of traveling and abandonment did not feel like his own any more than a guest room did. The fine layer of dust the servants had tried their best to remove still stuck to the bottom of barren drawers and empty furniture. When he traced the top of the mirror and his ungloved finger turned black, Alexsandr sighed, brushing it off on his sleepwear without a care.

The sun peeked through the mountains to stretch across the sky and tickle the edges of the snow crests pink, meaning Alexsandr slept in longer than he’d meant to. Dressing in his casual clothing was like coming home, more than his return to the palace the night before, or any time he stumbled through the otherwise stationary gates and indoors.

Winter’s cold fingers sank their claws into his body, and even after a full night’s sleep and the now dying embers of a fire in his room, he couldn’t shake the feeling of the cold. Not even three pairs of socks were enough to make him comfortable under the multitude of blankets that night. All the wrinkled coverings on his feet did were stave off the worst of his chills.

Lothal was so cold, but nothing compared to the insides of the palace. Aside from the persistent battle being waged to keep the palace on the ocean front warm, Alexsandr found himself fighting a different battle within the confines of his family. Perhaps more accurately, on the outside of the king and queen, and their son, his brother, the _other_ prince.

He now fought to whittle the chasm in between himself and the other three members of the royal family, after having spent years trying to claw it out from between him and them. Alexsandr’s fingers became raw after each visit as he tried and failed to remove that same wedge the king and queen placed in the wake of the incident following his discovery.

When Alexsandr learned the truth, he hadn’t been prepared for the reality that accompanied it. Now, all he could do was use it to his advantage. Which meant he had to carry his boots down the hall rather than slip them on. His feet made their telltale sound on the floors beneath him, loud enough to be heard but not enough to wake anyone else, including his brother.

Not that anything could really wake Ezra once he was asleep. Alexsandr doubted even the occasion could change as much about him. 

He watched his step regardless, knowing better than to make himself noticed.

Though the halls of the palace had been his home for years, he hadn’t felt welcome amongst the lofty arched rooms and beautiful molding in years. Disappearing down the servant’s staircase and into the kitchens, Alexsandr proved as much. With only two pairs of socks on, Alexsandr lifted his feet as he slipped down the stairs faster than either the king or queen would approve of.

Gravity threatened to take off with his glee and pride, but just before he fell, each time the balls of his feet slipped down the corner of the next step. As soon as he reached the bottom, Alexsandr pulled one boot on and hopped as he nearly lost his balance, trying to move while putting on the other.

Eagerly, he slipped into the confines of the deeper, draftier, but in many ways, warmer, cobbled passageways beneath the rest of the palace. Where the voices were not so hushed, and the words slipped freely from their owners’ lips.

Alexsandr and the only other people awake at that hour in the palace were all located in the kitchen. “Good morning,” he said with a sleepy, but no less wide smile, grasping an apron and smiling at all of the kitchen folk who’d become more of a family to him than his own had felt like in years.

“Good morning, Alexsandr,” Hera said cheerily. This was his favorite part, the part no one would ever witness or experience, but what he treasured more than any other section of his visits to Lothal.

Nothing changed.

It brought him such an irrational measure of joy, and it stemmed from the very source of the distance between the prince and the king and queen. He was not like the members of the Royal family, not where it truly mattered.

The fruits in his grasp were chopped readily, and only a smattering of spices accompanied his movements, as fluid as the rest of the kitchen staff’s dance around the tables and stoves.

Alexsandr watched the Captain of the Guard slip into the kitchen an hour later, coming up behind his wife to hold her from behind and open his mouth for the spoon she offered.

“Needs more cinnamon,”

“Thanks, love,” Hera said.

With a shake of his head, Alexsandr considered the reason Kanan hadn’t joined the kitchen staff he was practically already a part of. While he knew why, a part of him wondered what it would take to change that, to morph the very world in which they lived so that Kanan would trade his sword for a wooden spoon, and Hera her apron for much better suited armor.

“Highness,” Kanan greeted the prince.

“Captain,” he replied, the mocking stress on the title rather than the man’s name Alexsandr’s way of rolling his eyes while staying just as composed as he could with his fingers sinking into bread’s dough

“His Majesty requests your presence.”

“Before his departure this afternoon?” Alexsandr asked.

Kanan cleared his throat, and clarified much to Alexsandr’s dismay. “During the morning meal.”

“I’m otherwise engaged.” Alexsandr said, sprinkling more flour onto the counter in front of him.

“He knows you aren’t sleeping.” Kanan leaned against the counter to stare at the slightly shorter young man. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Just him?”

“The queen and the prince are as well,” Kanan admitted.

Alexsandr scoffed. “Bathing, then.”

“He sent me down here specifically to look for you, Alexsandr,” Kanan said pointedly. “They know you’re down here.”

“Are they even out of bed yet, Kanan?” Alexsandr asked irritably.

“That’s not the point,” Kanan said. “Your family wants to see you.”

“Correction, his majesty wants to see me,” Alexsandr said. Sarcasm was as easy as breathing, and after only enjoying close to two hours of his own sanity, Alexsandr was not eager to thrust himself into the lion’s den once more. 

Finding himself in said den not half an hour later was a defeat he accepted for the moment; one Alexsandr knew deep down was inevitable, however desperately he wished to escape it. The silence, the anticipation for what he knew was coming, what always came every single time Alexsandr returned to the palace, gnawed at the elder prince like a starving wolf with a bone.

Ephriam coughed, and readjusted the letter in front of him to read it better in the sunlight. Mira politely took the tiniest spoonful of her creamed oats and patted her mouth with a hand-stitched cloth napkin.

Ezra sat deathly silent, looking down at his breakfast with a frown on his face.

Mira shook her head, giving Kallus the only warning that the rigid and uncomfortable meal was only about to get worse. “Ezra, dear, please, eat.”

“I don’t want to.” Ezra turned to stare at his brother, with an anger that sent shudders down Alexsandr’s spine.

“Ezra, you need to eat. How else will you have the strength to say goodbye to your father and I before we depart for the Coruscanti kingdom?”

“I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay.”

“Ezra, we cannot stay. We’ve been over this.”

“Why can’t I come with you?”

“It is important that you stay here instead. You have your lessons and your responsibilities in our absence.”

“Why can’t Alexsandr take care of them?”

“Alexsandr had other things to do besides taking on your responsibilities, Ezra. You are a prince. It is high time you started acting like it. Do not allow yourself to behave childishly because you did not get your way.”

“I don’t want to be a prince.”

“You have no choice in the matter, nor the decision that your mother and I made,” Ephraim barked, standing up at the head of the table. “We are going where we are needed.” His stern gaze silenced Ezra, but had the opposite effect on Alexsandr.

The napkin brushed across his face “May I be excused?” Alexsandr asked, also rising from his seat. Ephraim shook his head and waved his hand, not bothering to think twice about dismissing Alexsandr when his son was behaving like every bit the royal pain he was.

* * *

Following the debacle, when another servant brought Alexsandr to stand in the middle of the king and queen’s chambers, he nodded at the directions given to him by said king and queen. The exact same directions as every time Alexsandr returned to the palace, and they left him behind for two weeks of awkward half conversations and polite avoidance.

“Make sure he attends his lessons, Alexsandr,” Ephraim said.

He did his best not to roll his eyes. “I will.”

“And he must not pillage the kitchen’s stores while the staff is working,” Ephraim turned in his seat from the letter he was writing to look at Alexsandr for the first time since he’d arrived nearly ten minutes before. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” Alexsandr nodded.

“Ezra is required to keep up with his schedule, every day. Even on weekends. Remind him.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Alexsandr said. His sarcasm, however, was not tucked away as it should have been, and his bitter resentful tone showed itself.

The king sighed, rising from his seat to step closer to the prince. “Alexsandr.”

“Yes, sir?” 

Ephraim put his hand on Alexsandr’s shoulder and offered the same kind smile Alexsandr once longed to see. But that had been years ago. “We love you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sasha,” the old nickname slipped from Ephraim’s lips and he looked down at Alexsandr fondly. “You will do just fine.”

“Of course, father.”

Ephraim tilted his head and he looked down at Alexsandr, who was nearly full grown despite only being seventeen years old. The prince would not make eye contact with his father, and he sighed. One gloved hand reached to pull the other off, and Ephraim reached one hand out to gently tip Alexsandr’s head upwards.

Mira, who’d been packing the entire time, stopped halfway from her wardrobe, and with a scarf in hand, she brushed her hand back over through her son’s red hair. It fell back into his eyes again as soon as she let it free. “Alexsandr, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, mother. I am fine.”

“You don’t need to lie to us, dear son,” Mira laughed gently. It was the proper breathy sound a queen would make, but Alexsandr remembered a time when he was young and both she and Ephraim would snort with laughter at his antics.. “What’s wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong,” Alexsandr said without so much as permitting a single fragment of the shuddering brew of resentment and rage to boil over into his voice. “I will do as you’ve asked, and ensure Ezra behaves himself while you are away.”

Mira sighed, placing the scarf on the corner of her bed and taking Alexsandr’s hand. “Dear son, your father is right. We do love you. Please, tell us, what’s wrong?”

Alexsandr shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. As soon as you return, I’ll be going back to my studies, as promised.”

Mira’s face grew stern. “Alexsandr, you will tell me the truth this instant or-”

“Or what?” Alexsandr snapped as sure as the fine thread that was not enough o keep him from lashing out. “What will you do? Send me away? Lock me away in my room? Cast me out? Marry me off, have me play politics while Ezra is groomed to be the son you wanted, the son you deserved? It’s unfortunate you can’t send me back to that orphanage you plucked me from, or that you couldn’t do it ten years ago when Ezra was born!”

Both Ephraim and Mira’s eyes went wide, and Kallus jerked his hand away from Mira’s and took a step back from Ephraim. 

His face contorted and he turned away for a moment, unable to bear to look at Lothal’s rulers in his pain. “Just _go_.” 

“Alexsandr, you are our son,” Mira began. 

Alexsandr, however, would have none of it. “I was, up until Ezra came into this family. I _was_ your son, and then you got what you really wanted. I would never be good enough, never be royal enough!”

Ephraim’s cautionary tone carried the weight of king more than it ever would the consideration of his father. “Alexsandr, watch your tone,”

“I don’t care about my tone!” His half frenzied shouting echoed in the high rafters of the ceilings. Perhaps the icicles forming outside would dislodge themselves and shatter as had Alexsandr’s restraint. “Get rid of me for all I care. That way we can all stop pretending you have ever cared about me, and I can stop pretending you have ever been my family, or shown me one shred of love that wasn’t contingent upon my standing next to Ezra. I have _never_ been enough for you, and I never _will_ be, so I might as well save us all the time and effort and stop trying.”

“Alexsandr!” Mira scolded.

“Goodbye, your majesties. Have a safe and pleasant journey.” Alexsandr bowed mockingly and stormed out of their quarters, and then set a course for the fastest possible route out of the palace.

Jaw set and boiling in fury, Alexsandr ran down the stairs, past the members of the staff, grabbing his jacket as he disappeared into the stables and down, past the horses, disappearing far beyond his parents’ reach, ducking beneath snow covered weeping willows and behind stone benches up against the stones lined up against the edge of the castle, as far as he could get from his wardens in the prison he’d been brought up in.

Alexsandr stayed there until after the sunset, tears streaming down his face as silent sobs wracked his body the longer he cried. If it was the snow under his fingers or the salted streaks from his face that made his clothing damp, Alexsandr would never know, nor would he bother to care.

When the maidservant Hera emerged from nowhere to offer him her hand and a warm pastry, he accepted with trembling hands and an aching head. The first bite was accompanied by the gentle brush of her hand up and down his back.

Alexsandr felt truly warm for the first time since he’d been separated from Ezra.

“They’re gone, your highness. It’s time you came inside and had a proper meal.” Hera suggested.

While Alexsandr did nod, it took him some time to wrangle the courage and the effort to clamber to his feet and return to the wonderfully furnished prison he longed to escape.

She brought him from the garden, and Alexsandr did his best not to blush at the sight of several guards, including Kanan, standing at the door.

“Hello, your highness,” Kanan said with a nod, while Alexsandr only blushed deeper. Hera and Kanan closed the door behind him, and while most of the guards dispersed, Alexsandr froze.

His eyes moved up the winding stairs to see Ezra with what Alexsandr would’ve sworn were tears in his own eyes, standing alone at the very top of the fine-threaded carpet. Ezra hesitated, and reached out one hand as if he could reach Alexsandr, but it returned to be placed over the other, behind his back. Instead, they watched one another until Alexsandr disappeared towards the kitchens and out of view. Ezra stood motionless beyond tracking Alexsandr’s movements down the stairs and into the stone hallways beneath the rest of the castle.

From the sound of his boots treading on the floor above their heads, Alexsandr heard Ezra walk down the hallway to his room and disappear behind his door with a quiet but no less discernible click of a latch.

Alexsandr resigned himself to being watched over by Hera and Kanan, sitting at a wooden table in the warmth of the kitchens with a warm mug of cocoa shoved into his hands and all eyes on him. The few other servants still present offered him sympathetic smiles, but his shame only grew.

Aside from being wholly inappropriate behavior from a prince, adopted or not, he’d blatantly aired their private affairs for everyone in the entire palace to hear. Whether or not everyone had been within earshot mattered little. Gossip traveled like wildfire amongst the servants, and Alexsandr didn’t blame them.

If his life was not his own, and Alexsandr was afforded the opportunity to talk about all the deepest darkest corners of his own story, he’d have gladly spoken in hushed tones with the others. The fact of the matter, however, was his own chaotic and quite messy life was his responsibility and tarnishing the good name of the king and queen, or their son, the prince, was hardly acceptable.

Alexsandr was already dreading his parents’ return, and the sure punishment that would follow his outburst.

He never received either.

* * *

**10 Years Later**

Though he often endured comments about his smooth skin and baby face-like qualities while in schooling, Prince Alexsandr found great joy in his carefully trimmed and tended to muttonchops.

He wore them well, the blond-red mix of hair matching his freckles and dazzling eyes. Many of the servants wondered out loud for years when the prince would marry, and how dazzling his children would be. As the years went by, however, the prince often traveled and arranged trade agreements, negotiating with other neighboring kingdoms and working closely with a number of cultures instead of courting a potential suitor

He seemed more in love with learning and politics than with the idea of love.

Several days before his brother’s coronation, Alexsandr was pulled aside by the Kingdom’s advisors, and told plain and simple that his status as a bachelor raised some questions about Lothal’s status as a sturdy, reliable kingdom, whereas other men his age married and had children, producing heirs for the throne.

He reminded them flatly he was unfit to rule because of his lack of being born royal. Any and all children he reared would be ineligible to hold titles, much less to rule.

When one of them pressed the topic, Alexsandr did not raise his voice, nor did he stand from his seat at the head of the table.

“My responsibilities to the kingdom are first and foremost my priority until the heir to the throne is ready and eligible to ascend. Marriage is not something I have the time or patience for, and when I choose to marry, I will do so after Prince Ezra becomes king.” Alexsandr snapped finally, and silenced the many pushy, insistent men who were nosing into his personal affairs.

He also neglected to mention his intention to give up his title as prince as soon as Ezra’s coronation ended, and Alexsandr trained another capable political-savvy traveler to take over his responsibilities, but that was not something they were required to know until after he disappeared from the scrutinizing gaze of noble society.

He’d been aching to leave since the king and queen died, lost at sea, ten long years before. Alexsandr knew, however, abandoning his brother after the promise he made to Ephraim and Mira would not sit well with him. So he decided to keep up the charade for as long as he could, and then he would be free.

Of course, not everything about his responsibilities was so horrible. Already, the eager replacement he’d been training to take his place, a young man by the name of Kes, was standing just behind him, diligently taking notes.

“You know, I did hear Lord Yularen’s son was-” Kes cleared his throat. “Engaged in a compromising relationship with another noble while at school.”

“You don’t think he’s trying to set me up with his son, do you?” Alexandr asked slyly.

The look on Kes’s face was without rival. He snorted, doing his best to maintain composure, knowing even though the room was empty besides them, he could not possibly be allowed to imply what he suspected the Prince was suggesting. “I- I’m not certain I would be allowed to have an opinion on such a matter, highness.”

Alexsandr shrugged. He would take his victories where he could, and if he kept Kes in high spirits, the coming days would go much smoother. “Kes,” he said with a real smile. “You always seem to know exactly what to say after these dreadful meetings.”

Kes snorted. “Shara seems to agree, highness.”

“How is she?” Alexsandr asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject without a thought otherwise.

“Well,” Kes shrugged. “Missing her family, but excited for the wedding.”

“Her family is attending, correct?”

“I believe so, but with what you know of their ah- pattern of behavior, I am worried they won’t make an appearance.”

“I wish there was something I could do about it,” Alexsandr said, patting Kes’s arm twice. “I’d order them here if I thought it would help.”

“If they don’t come of their own free will, it won’t serve her, or the wedding,” Kes said pointedly. While it was true, it was ever frustrating to everyone involved.

“You are an excellent man, Kes.” Alexsandr shook his head and sighed. “Surely, they must be fools to not realize as much.”

“Shara has always been a tad distant from her family.” Kes shrugged, knowing as complicated as it was, the prince would pass no judgement. “Their older views often make for poor relationships with my fiancé and strain what feeble ones they do have.”

Alexsandr nodded slowly. “I don’t regret commandeering her from the Imperial servant staff. She has too sharp a mind and a wit to match to be spending her life scrubbing ballroom floors.”

“I agree,” Kes said. “I am grateful you were able to find a place of employment for her in the palace. I understand things have been difficult since the gates closed.”

Shrugging, but with the hint of a mischievous smile, Alexsandr winked. “With any luck, the ceremony in a few days’ time will change things, at least for a little while.”

“That is the hope.” Kes said, returning the mischievous, however well-intended glimmer in his eyes.

Alexsandr clapped a hand to rest on Kes’s back once. “I look forward to your wedding, Kes.”

“Thank you. My only wish is I’d be able to attend yours one day.”

Alexsandr barked a laugh, rolling his eyes, and though he knew Kes was not joking, it was an amusing sentiment, nonetheless. “If I ever have one, you will be invited.”

“I hope you do.”

Alexsandr shrugged. “You never know. If I swore off love entirely, fate would mock me and offer me a dozen suitors to prove a point.”

“As long as you are happy, then.”

 _Happy._ While Alexsandr knew perfectly well what would make him happy, and while Kes knew it too, though had never said as much aloud, he hesitated. While telling Kes, (or as it turned out, _not_ telling Kes) his deepest secrets had never once ended in anything other than trust and confidence, he didn’t know that he could tell Kes that as soon as the mantle had been passed, and as soon as he was sure Lothal was stable, Kes _would_ find out _, but ugh- it just wasn’t something he could deal with right now._

“I have to go to the kitchens, Kes. Would you come with me?” Alexsandr asked. Kes nodded, and proceeded to scribble things down on the pages of his notebook as they moved. Whatever they were, Alexsandr knew if they were important, he would find out.

The duo treaded from the conference room down the halls, scurrying down the stairs and into the kitchens, as warm and comforting as ever. 

Hera stood outside the door to sais kitchens and winked, munching happily on the oats they suspected Kanan had made for her. As Captain of the Guard, she often was wherever the princes were, which is why when Alexsandr walked into the kitchen and saw the empty table where Ezra would occasionally eat vacant, his heart sank. “What’s on the menu, Kanan?”

“Today or for the ball?”

“For the ball, but if there is something to eat today, I know Kes hasn’t eaten all morning.”

“Neither has his highness.”

“Alexsandr!” Hera said, scolding the prince without hesitation. “I can and will have Kanan force-feed you.”

Kes, used to the bizarre but warm dynamic between the servants and the prince, took his seat and ate his porridge without complaint. He watched the standoff between the guardswoman and her prince, the same amused look in his eyes, even if the rest of his expression was controlled as ever.

When the bowl slid across the worn table in front of where Alexsandr was standing, and Kanan pointed with the wooden spoon towards it, he sighed, and took his seat on the bench, besides Kes. “Thank you, Kanan.”

“You’re welcome, highness.” Kanan said, returning to his work without another word.

The oats, as always, were simple but wonderful, and Alexsandr appreciated the effort Kanan had gone through to make such a thing when his time was so limited before the banquet.

“Is this your recipe, highness?” Kes asked, looking up from his food to meet the prince’s gaze.

It took him a moment, but after he swallowed the hotter than expected oats, Alexsandr nodded. “It is mine, as well as Hera’s, and Kanan’s. We worked together on this, as we did a number of other things you’ve eaten.”

“I suppose we don’t spend enough time in the palace for me to know such things.”

“We certainly have the last few weeks, but with all the preparations required, I can hardly blame you for not realizing I dabbled in culinary skills with the staff before we ever met.”

Kes shrugged. “It’s excellent food.”

“The simple things in life make it worth the more complex moments.” Alexsandr said with a nod.

When Kes tensed, and looked at the doorway behind Alexsandr, he sighed, controlling his face to turn over his shoulder and at his brother.

Ezra’s face was just as controlled, and he had his hands behind his back, still wearing those _damn_ gloves of all things.

“Good morning, Ezra.”

“Good morning, Alexsandr.” Ezra said, taking the longer route around the table to pick through the bowl of fruit over by Kanan. Alexsandr watched what Kes learned within days of his first visit to the castle would happen. The gentle hubbub of the servants faded into silence. They all gave Ezra a wide berth, and none dared speak to him without being asked a question first.

Alexsandr remembered when Kes had asked nearly a year after working with Alexsandr if the response to Ezra’s behavior was out of fear, or necessity. While Kes had expected either a grave answer, or Alexsandr to laugh off the question, he only sighed, and informed Kes Ezra had always struggled with diplomatic lessons and visits.

Day to day conversations were no different, and while his brother was not unkind, his anger at his parents’ death and the ten long years spent after their deaths trapped in the palace had done little to improve Ezra’s demeanor.

Alexsandr loved his brother, but it seemed the wall their parents threw up between him and Ezra would never come down again, not even a decade after their deaths. He sighed, continuing to eat the porridge in silence. Kes offered a sympathetic smile when Ezra’s back was turned, and also ate in silence.

To their surprise, however, Ezra sat down across from the two with another bowl of porridge and an apple.

Alexsandr felt Kes shift, but looked up to match the intensity of his brother’s stare. “Have you tried Kanan’s porridge, yet?”

“No.” Ezra shook his head.

“It’s quite excellent. I do enjoy the spices.”

“Good.”

Ezra ate the porridge in silence, and when he left his dish, wiping his face with the napkin and leaving it on the table after years of being chided for trying to do a servant’s work, he stood, and left.

Kes heaved a sigh of relief. When Alexsandr directed an amused look at him, Kes blushed. “I know you love your brother, but Alexsandr, I don’t know that I do.”

The boisterous laughter that followed only proved Kes’s point. “Well, I’m certain Shara is quite glad you don’t.”

Kes snorted, trying and failing to hide his own laughter. “I can also say with confidence, she would be ecstatic if I told her I was not in love with the future King of Lothal.”

* * *

While it was Ezra’s responsibility to formally welcome and receive each guest, Alexsandr took it upon himself to scour the many faces, some familiar, some unfamiliar, across the open rooms and out into the courtyard. Even the wonderful streets were filled, and as he made his way out of the palace, greeting and shaking the hands of several different people he recognized, Alexsandr’s heart raced.

It suddenly became very real, and he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work, and he shuddered, taking the opportunity to duck into an alleyway and rush out of sight of the crowd. Alexsandr sat on the first bench he found and breathed unsteadily, exhaling with a strained whine.

“Hey, are you alright?” a gruff, but warm man asked. Alexsandr didn’t bother to look up.

 _I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with this right now._ He was tempted to bite out at the stranger. A kind stranger, to make matters worse. Despite fleeing from the crowds to be alone, and as much as Alexsandr wanted to be angry with this stranger for following him and invading the very privacy he was very rarely able to experience, Alexsandr found he couldn’t. The prince swallowed thickly. “Yes, my apologies. I-I had to escape for a moment.”

“That’s alright,” the man said, sitting down on the bench besides Alexsandr with a smile the prince was sure he could _hear_. “I understand. The pressures to be who everyone thinks you should be are impossible, sometimes.”

A large hand rested on the prince’s back and the low voice sent his heart sinking into his abdomen. When Alexsandr dared to look up, his jaw dropped.

The man was simply stunning. Alexsandr fought back the urge to gasp audibly, but knew his breath faltered instead. He kept his expression controlled, but Alexsandr was sure his eyes might betray him if he did not keep them in line.

 _Oh, screw it,_ Alexsandr thought the moment those green eyes met his. He was already done for.


End file.
